"Credence, you're really a professor at Hogwarts?" Wanda's eyes sparkled with excitement.
When Credence mentioned his current position, Wanda's curiosity ignited. Since entering the wizarding world, the name Hogwarts had echoed in her ears countless times. Ian, Remy, and Vera had all spoken of it, stirring her fascination.
If she hadn't been so curious, she wouldn't have wandered the Forbidden Forest shortly after leaving Kamar-Taj.
"Yes," Credence replied with a warm smile. "Dumbledore invited me to take up the position of Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'm here to help young wizards strengthen their defenses against dark magic."
"Really?" Hermione's voice carried a note of doubt, her sharp eyes scrutinizing him.
Truthfully, it was hard to trust such a sudden claim. School had only been in session for a month or two, and as far as she knew, Professor Snape still held the position.
And Snape... Hermione grimaced inwardly. Being scolded by him every day is exhausting. But... if this man is telling the truth...
Ron, standing beside her, brightened instantly. His expression lit up as if he'd spotted a savior.
"Damn Snape," Ron muttered under his breath. "Finally, some hope! I'm sick of getting berated in Potions class, and I'd rather not get the same treatment in Defense Against the Dark Arts!"
Snape had been relentless lately. Despite Harry's flawless performance, Snape always found something to criticize. And if Hermione made even the tiniest slip, he would barely comment before redirecting his full wrath toward Ron.
"Professor Credence, welcome!" Ron cheered, his face beaming with rare enthusiasm. "Aside from Slytherin, I'm sure every student in Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff will be celebrating your arrival!"
Credence blinked at Ron's unrestrained joy, a bit puzzled. He had spent most of his life in the United States and only recently arrived in England—at Grindelwald's request, no less. His knowledge of Hogwarts professors was limited.
Snape... He had heard the name but knew little beyond reputation. He was more familiar with Professor McGonagall.
Still, the genuine warmth from these students was heartening.
But...
"Harry, Ron, Hermione," Credence said, his voice curious, "isn't today not a Hogsmeade weekend? How exactly did you three slip out of Hogwarts?"
The sudden question made Ron and Hermione freeze.
Hermione's fingers clenched the fabric of her robe tightly.
Ron's face paled, his earlier excitement draining in an instant.
Busted.
A bead of cold sweat trickled down his temple. We're dead. The new professor caught us skipping school.
Credence, however, simply chuckled.
"Relax," he said lightly. "I haven't even reported to Professor McGonagall yet. Let's just pretend I didn't see you today."
Both Ron and Hermione's eyes widened in surprise.
"But," Credence added, his voice gaining a note of caution, "you should be more careful. You're only in your third year. Skipping classes like this could leave a bad impression."
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, her tense shoulders easing.
However, Credence's gaze shifted to Harry—who, unlike his friends, remained utterly calm.
Harry's expression hadn't changed from the start.
He's completely unaffected, Credence thought, his eyes narrowing slightly.
In fact, Harry seemed more guarded than anything else. His body language was taut, ready. His right hand hovered subtly near his wand—a battle stance, prepared for action.
Moreover, Credence sensed it—Harry was using Occlumency. His mind was shielded, his emotions masked behind a veil of mental defense.
This boy... is he really just a third-year student?
From the stance alone, Harry felt like a wizard hardened by countless duels.
Noticing this tension, Ian, who had been quietly observing from the side, smiled faintly. He remembered his last encounter with Harry at Kamar-Taj. They had even fought once—an experience Ian hadn't forgotten.
Though he had bested Harry in that duel, he knew—Harry's combat instincts were exceptional.
And... Ian thought, narrowing his eyes slightly, there's something more. A power within him, untapped... and it feels... dangerous.
"Professor Credence," Wanda chimed in suddenly, breaking the tension, "can we visit Hogwarts with you?"
Credence turned to her, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.
Wanda, with a cheeky grin, pulled a slightly crumpled piece of parchment from the extension bag on her waist.
"We're on a research project about the life habits of dragons," she explained in a coaxing tone. "We'd like to visit the Hogwarts library to borrow some reference books. And, if possible..." She paused, her eyes glinting with anticipation, "we'd love to explore the Forbidden Forest."
A spark of amusement flashed through Credence's eyes. His gaze drifted briefly to the snowy creature perched on Wanda's shoulder—Snow.
So... this is about the dragon, is it?
His lips curled into a mysterious smile.
"Very well," he said at length, nodding, "I'll see what I can do. I believe Professor McGonagall won't mind accommodating such dedicated researchers."
His smile deepened. "I'll speak with her tonight. If everything goes well, you'll hear from me soon."
Aberforth, who had been silently observing the exchange from behind the counter, felt an urge to interject. His lips parted slightly—
Then he paused.
A glance at his son, Credence—serene and decided—made him swallow his words.
Let him make his own choices.
His eyes, however, couldn't help but wander to the sleek, jade-colored rectangular cube at the counter's edge—Wizard Pay.
Lockhart... Aberforth thought with a twitch of his lips. You really changed the world...
His gaze shifted once more—to Ian.
Not a son, but sometimes... he felt more like one.
Ian, catching the glance, flashed a wide, toothy grin.
To Aberforth, that smile was warmer than a roaring hearth on a winter's night.
This fool... Aberforth thought, feeling an inexplicable warmth rise in his chest.
Ding!
The familiar click of a credit card swipe sounded.
Ian's voice followed, cheerful and firm:
"Boss, this one's on me! Tonight, you're not paying—I am! No arguing. Just treat us to your best dishes!"
Aberforth's eyes dropped to the Wizard Pay display—500 Galleons.
For a second, he was stunned.
Then...
Something tightened in his chest.
Nighttime, Hogwarts – Deputy Headmistress's Office
"What?! Harry and the others snuck out again?"
Professor McGonagall's voice shot up, her usual composure cracking.
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she added with exasperation:
"Why are they always so disobedient?"
That one small word—'again'—made Credence raise an eyebrow.
His lips quirked, a touch amused.
"Professor McGonagall, Headmaster Dumbledore," he said calmly, "with all due respect—" His eyes sharpened. "Are you certain you know what Harry's been up to lately?"
McGonagall opened her mouth—ready to say that everything was under control.
But—
She hesitated.
Memories flashed—Harry, caught in the act by Credence just hours earlier.
No excuses. No clever cover-ups. Just caught.
The certainty drained from her lips.
Instead, she exhaled... heavily.
Credence caught that sigh.
And he understood.
"Professor McGonagall," he said softly, his voice taking on a different edge, "in that case... allow me to handle Harry my way."
A beat of silence.
Then—
"All I ask..." His eyes met hers, calm yet firm.
"...is for your full cooperation."
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Marvel : The God Of Punishment System
I Am Raditz
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